


Home

by Measured



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Change comes slowly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> his was going to be a treat in a certain thing I was participating in, but I couldn't get over by how much it was a part of the series started with [The House Where We Grew Up](http://bonnefois.dreamwidth.org/787096.html#cutid1) and [Endings and Beginnings](http://bonnefois.dreamwidth.org/1077330.html). It precedes both, however.
> 
> Betaed by Amiiti.

Ike had lost count of the hour, even as the clock downstairs shuddered with each ring of its bell. The room resembled a servant's, and likely had been, knowing Soren. He despised unnecessary clutter. He'd even kept his simple, even dour mage's garb over adopting the appearance of a nobleman. That title wasn't without reach for him. From Begnion to Melior, Soren's tactics could earn himself a place in any army.

Ike didn't have the luxury of dressing as he wished. The wool of his cloak scraped at his neck until it left red rashes. He stumbled through dinner, showing himself for the uncultured country mercenary he really was with every misused spoon.

The days and its stumbles had left him weary. A war he could endure, but manners and gossip he couldn't. He leaned against Soren, breathing in the scent of him. Even without words, he was grateful for the nearness. The simplicity of drawing a brush through Soren's thick, dark hair was a reminder of an earlier time. Dappled sunlight and swords practice, when war was things that happened in stories, and to other people.

He pulled Soren's hair into a ponytail. Ike had lost count of the strokes along the way, adrift in the moments between them. Soren's head leaned forward, dipping just slightly in fatigue. Some things Soren hid well, others he didn't.

"How many hours have you been up?" Ike asked.

"It's a mystery," Soren said.

"You're adept at solving mysteries," Ike said. "You tell me."

"Your answer will surely be 'too long,'" Soren replied.

"If you've gained the power to read minds, then no army will stand a chance against you. Though after this, that might already be true," Ike said.

"I'm no foreteller," Soren said.

He started the plaited hair. Even if he always got it a little wrong, they kept up this ritual. Soren would redo his crooked braids, and Ike would remember the feel of thick, dark hair soft against his fingertips. It'd been months since they'd spent this much time together. Soren would slip out after meetings and go off to the library. At first, Ike thought he was merely making use of the rare tomes found there, but Ike had grown proficient at telling when Soren had fallen into a dark mood again.

His face had grown sharper, more drawn. There was a purple shade, like bruises, under his eyes.

"We haven't been seeing much of each other recently," Ike said.

"You're always in meetings with the queen," Soren said bitterly. He cleared his throat, but the hint of his feelings had already been revealed.

"Or attending court. They don't even ask me anything. I'm nothing but a trophy of victory, some symbol," Ike added.

"You've received several marriage proposals already...." Soren said.

"They want to put me on their mantelpiece. None of them would've given me a second glance if I were still just a mercenary," Ike said.

"The rumors say you will be the next king," Soren said uncertainly.

"You should know better than to listen to such things," Ike said.

Soren didn't respond for a long while. When he did, his voice was like a long sigh.

"I suppose this is our lives now. Figure pieces in the crown of the capital."

"It isn't written in stone. I don't want this title, and once things are settled, I'm going back," Ike said.

"You'd leave behind the title as well as the capital...and her?" Soren said. 

"In a second. You probably think I'm a fool," Ike said.

"No...brazen, perhaps, but never a fool," Soren said.

"Well, you'd be the only one in the whole group, and most of Begnion that doesn't think that. I guess I should thank you for the vote of confidence," Ike said.

"Always," Soren said. His voice was low, an uncertain whisper.

His head dipped again. Ike rested his hand on Soren's shoulder. "No studying until dawn. Now that's an order from your commander."

"Understood," Soren said.

"I'm staying a while," Ike said. He undid his cloak and draped it over a chair. The desk must have been moved into the small room at some point. It was out of place beside the small bed with a dull woolen blanket over the softer ones. An intricate sunburst was carved into the front of the desk.

Soren tensed. A distance had sprung up between them in this time of growth. Back when they were children, only two years ago, they'd resting together curled up under the tree roots, with Soren's shoulder against his shoulder. 

"I don't have to stay all night, just until you fall asleep. You haven't been sleeping well. The night terrors are back, aren't they?" Ike said.

"No, it was...nothing important," Soren said.

"It's important enough to be keeping you up at night," Ike said.

Soren blew out the candle. He'd already long ago changed from his robes to a dark sleeping shift. Ike undid the laces of his boots. It wouldn't be the first time he'd bedded down in full armor. War and the loss of his father had taught him many things, and with each one, his childhood became even more of a distant dream.

Peace, too, was a far off memory.

Soren pulled the thick blanket up to his chin, and curled up as small as he could, with his knees to his chest. Even with herbal teas and so many other potions and medicines, Soren slept intermittently, if at all. 

"Time is inevitable. I thought you....would certainly become king. No other person would turn down that chance. No one except you," Soren said.

"The only place I'm going to back to is the fort, and you'll be right there by my side," Ike said.

Ike lay on top of the covers, a temporary easing. He could hear the sharp draw of breath, and rustle of covers as Soren shifted again. He rested his hand over Soren's and squeezed tight.

"Stay a little longer?" Soren said. His voice was so quiet, with a raw undertone of vulnerability.

"I will," Ike said.

Ike sat up and undid his armor. There would be far less chance of an assassin’s blade here.

They couldn't return to that space of childhood, but they could go back home together and rebuild. He would find something like comfort hidden under the roots of those trees, sleeping against Soren once again.


	2. The House Where We Grew Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change comes slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic_promptly: author's choice, building a home in a wasteland / hc_bingo: homesickness.
> 
> Title comes from the Hammock song of the same name.
> 
> For tactician as I promised her feel better fic.

The fort they returned to was a shell of its former glory. What wasn't burned was filled with mold, inhabited by vermin, overgrown with weeds, and crumbling down.

"Barely worth the effort to come all this way," Shinon muttered.

Mist had been cheery throughout the trip, endlessly chattering about what she would do when she returned. All that fell away when she saw the shambles of the former home. 

Soren had held no illusions to the state of the fort he had stayed in those many years. Razing the opponent's forts was merely another tactic employed in war. Even now, he held little nostalgia for the ruins of the building. It was not home to him, nor was any mere place of country. In the end, there was only one who held his loyalty.

"I hardly think we can stay in the fort in this state, the roof looks like it might collapse right in on us. We'll have to stay in the local inn for a while," Rhys said.

"We won't have enough money to stay at the inn until it's finished," Ike said.

"It's okay, we've camped lots of times, right? This will be a lot easier than all that time spent going through Daein...if I never have to pitch a tent in the snow again, it'll be too soon," Mist said.

"I suppose we should see if there's anything to be salvaged. Mist, why don't you come with me to the kitchens?" Oscar said.

"All right," Mist said. She smoothed out her yellow skirts and started to follow after him.

"It's sad to see a good fort all in rubble. I bet it must've been a great place back in the day," Mia said.

Mist turned back, pausing for a moment before she reached the doors.

"It was the best of little places," Mist said, her voice firm with conviction. She smiled at Mia, who by now was considered a full fledged member.

"You wanna help me check the kitchens? It could be like an adventure–hide and seek."

"Count me in, I never can resist an adventure," Mia said.

Mia had in less than three years time integrated herself into the group more than Soren had in over ten years, a fact which Soren did not let slip by him. She was personable, she trusted the world and saw goodness. 

Soren had driven them away, only let Ike come close, and they had treated him civilly in return.  
He didn't regret it, so much as there was a curious twinge in himself, not so much the feeling as the knowledge of the _lack_ of a feeling. On dark nights he'd watch the candle drip, unable to focus on his books as the growing knowledge that had Ike been like everyone else, he would be alone. He would've died then, starved away from lack of food and caring before he even reached his sixth year.

Soren looked to Ike, to remind himself that for now, he wasn't alone. Just his presence was a deep comfort. The sound of armor turned Soren's gaze back, away from Ike. Titania had been carrying some of the supplies, but she set them down at the outset and wiped the sweat from her brow. 

"Restoring it will take a lot of hard work, but I think it's what Commander Greil would've wanted," Titania said. She looked over the bones of the fort gravely. 

"I think so, too," Ike said.

She smiled then, but it was tinged with sadness. "I'm sure he's very proud of you—you've grown into a fine man."

Titania patted his shoulder once, and then walked towards the fort. The rest had either gone for supplies or began the work inside of excavating whatever was useful and clearing out the debris. Even a cursory glance told Soren that little could be salvaged from here. It would be easier, more advantageous and more cost effective to simply find another of the many abandoned forts in the countryside and move there.

But, Ike, like most people, was at times filled with nostalgia and sentimentality towards peoples, places, things. 

Which was why Ike stayed behind, staring at the ruined walls of the fort. Moss and vines grew over the walls, and at this point, might as well have been the only thing keeping them together. Soren stayed near him, quiet as a shadow.

"All this time, I kept missing this place, and it isn't around anymore. It seems so small and insignificant. I couldn't stand the castle, the stuffiness and the manners and the endless social gatherings. But coming back doesn't seem to have made everything better like I thought it would."

Ike shook his head. "I guess I wasn't missing the place itself, so much as the memories of what it once was. And it'll never be like that again."

Not without his father, was the unsaid. Perhaps that was how people who had parents, a circle of people who loved them felt. Connected to a point, that mythic sense of a _home_ Soren had never understood in terms of land or buildings. 

Soren reached out, touched his sleeve. Why couldn't he do more for Ike? Comfort was not a language he spoke fluently. What would he know about longing for a home that once was, what it was like to miss a parent who had actually cared, loved him. Soren was not about half truths, lying a world he knew all too well was filled to the brim with coldness.

"I'm sure you'll make the best of it. You always do," Soren said.

"Only the best of it?" Ike said, with a crooked half-grin.

"I would be lying if I said it would be easy. You left the station of general in the capitol to return to a ruined fort to start up a mercenary group which was barely making ends meet before. Mercenary groups statistically lose even more money potential during peaceful times. "

"Do you think I'm foolish for that?" Ike said.

"I'm sure many do, but I am not among them."

"I don't care about what they think of me. Just what you and the rest of the group do. I know Shinon thinks I'm an idiot for giving up the commission, I'm not sure about the others," Ike said.

"Shinon would think that regardless," Soren said. 

"Ha...you're right," Ike said.

"The rest came with you. I think that shows where their loyalty lies."

"I know. I don't regret it in the least, though. Maybe I'm just tired, I haven't been this muddled in a while. I'm not sure what I was expecting to come home to, but it wasn't this," Ike said.

"Time waits for no man," Soren said. A quote he gleaned from a tome long ago.

"That's for sure...You could've stayed, you know. I wouldn't have stood in your way, even if I would've missed you," Ike said.

"I wouldn't think of it, Ike. As...long as you need me, I will be here."

"It's good to know that Begnion and Crimea's libraries aren't going to steal you away to be their archivist. Or some high ranking adviser." 

"Never," Soren said.

"I can't say I'm sad about that. It wouldn't have been the same without you. But I have to give all the members a chance to leave in case they didn't agree with my choice. Even you."

Soren came slightly closer, and brushed his hand against Ike's wrist. He nearly drew back as Ike entwined his fingers with Soren's. He hadn't expected the intimacy or the warmth of Ike's touch.  
Ike was completely unselfconscious, as Soren felt as if he were turning inside out. 

Ike didn't say anything as he just stared out of what was left of the buildings. Soren couldn't say how much time passed as they just stood, hand in hand. Ike seemed lost in happier days, memories of a mercenary boy who only wanted to be as good a swordsman as his father.

It was only when a commotion started up inside, with quite a bit of indiscernible shouting that Ike let go.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Ike said. He sighed, and shook his head. "Welcome home. Now to turn it into something livable."

Soren nodded. His hand still tingled. He looked down to his palm. No mark was left, even as it felt like there should be more than a memory.

He would work to make the place and company Ike loved so back to what it once was. He couldn't bring back Ike's father—though if he could, he would do it at any cost. Ike walked ahead and Soren watched him go, feeling the warmth spread through him. He had no attachment to places, or things, but he still knew what home felt like.


	3. Beginnings and Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to [The House Where We Grew Up](http://bonnefois.dreamwidth.org/787096.html#cutid1). Some inspiration comes from [this](http://gahraazel.tumblr.com/post/119363258615). Cottoncandybingo: lead/follow. Betaed by Amiiti.
> 
> Happy birthday, Chizlemons.

Ike left his title as a lord and returned to the ruins of his childhood. No one stayed in the capitol, not even Shinon, though he muttered the whole way back.

The space of his world had seemed so much larger three years ago. Just like the shirts Mist had to let in, mend the holes and scrubbed at the bloodstains. No longer was his world something he would grow into. The collapsing walls and old dreams.

He'd wanted to be a hero, and he'd gotten his wish. He just hadn't listened every time Soren talked of the dark sides of fairy tales, of women who danced themselves to death, and of birthright curses. Those had just been stories.

But as Soren always said, myths and stories were just history that people added to, until they, men, became gods.

*

New shops had sprung up and others had closed in those three years. Every memory he had of the surrounding towns had bent in some way. The fountain in the square was cracked from when war had touched their country, the forests had become overrun with thick-thorned bushes, when so many of the men left their woodcutting jobs for mercenary work. Peace and rebuilding came slowly.

Ike counted out the coins in his pocket. Too little for both weapons and food supplies. They'd have to choose. He pulled his cloak tighter over his shoulders to push back the autumn chill, despite the deceptively sunny day.

Shinon and Rolf could always go hunting again. They could live on short rations.

A voice came up behind him. He turned to see a young shop girl, though not Aimee, leaning down from her station. She openly gaped, raising her gloved hand to point his way. Three gold bangles clattered at her wrist, a small bit of decoration on an otherwise plain brown dress. He could only see part of her through the low-slung once-red cloth to keep out the elements. Time had faded that as well.

"Could it be the Hero of Blue Flames is here among us?" 

_"They said he settled here and left his title at the queen's feet."_

_"What kind of man gives up a title? You must be mistaken."_

_"No, I heard it from my cousin who works as a maid in the capitol! I tell you, that's the Hero of Blue Flames!"_

The people in the cobblestone square turned, looking past him, to someone who did not exist. A hero of their own imagination.

"You're mistaken, I'm just a mercenary," Ike said. He turned his back upon the crowd. He'd had enough of hero worship for a lifetime.

"But I'm telling you, that had to be him," said another voice among the crowd. Ike kept walking, and soon, Soren fell in step beside him. They'd parted at the outset, meant for different shops. Soren always finished his purchases first. He calculated prices quickly, and could haggle them with a ruthlessness Ike had rarely seen outside the battlefield. His braided ponytail had grown loose and windswept from the autumn breeze. Dust had turned his black robes a murky shade of a stormy night. He slung a light bag over his shoulder. Something inside smelled faintly spicy.

"We'll have to smuggle you out in hooded cloaks at this rate," Soren said dryly. "Though, this fame could have its own rewards. We could make a business of it. Sell your signature, give speeches. Aimee alone would pay for an entire winter's rations."

"It's a good thing you're on our side," Ike said.

Soren smiled wryly and pulled out several gold coins. 

"Go on, I've no need for new books. I haven't seen battle against anything but dust motes in months," Soren said.

Ike clutched the gold in his palm. 

"You've been docking your pay again," Ike said.

"It's what I want," Soren said.

He pocketed the coins. A gift from Soren was a truly rare occurrence, at least to anyone but himself.

*

Mist's dress was a criss-cross of mending, faded like dull sunlight. Her ball gowns had been sold at the capitol, for just enough to cover the trip back. She stood on tip-toe, reaching as much of the wall as she could. Beside her, Boyd worked, reaching just above her. He looked to her, and then smirked, as he flicked soapy, herb-filled water across. She flinched as the suds hit her, making whitish wet dots over her dress and face.

"Boyd, you're so immature!" she said. She stuck her tongue out, and lifted up the bucket above her head. Before he could even respond, she dumped the water over his head. Water rushed over him, pooling at their boots. His clothes were tight and sticky now. He lumbered forward, like a monster, with his hands stretched out.

"I'm going to hit you with my staff," Mist said.

Boyd pushed the bucket up, until it looked more like a helmet than a testament to Mist's wrath. "Looks like you're pretty immature, too," Boyd said, with a grin.

"I'm just fighting back at your stupid game," Mist said.

"I'd rather you two not kill each other," Ike said.

Mist pushed her wet strands of brown hair out of her face. "No promises there, brother," she said.

"I'm so dead," Boyd said, and broke out laughing as he ducked another drip droplets flung his way by Mist.

Ike moved on, stepping over puddles. Inside, Mia wielded her broom like a weapon, precariously balanced on Gatrie's shoulders. Shinon watched them from a corner wall he'd leaned upon. Though he'd sat out every cleaning session, he had a scent of acrid chemicals and trees upon him. There were two bows slung over his shoulder, not merely one. At the same time, gifts of food started appearing at the doors, left without a tag.

He'd die before he ever admitted such a thing.

"Be careful, or little commander Ikey might put you in a corner," Shinon said.

From behind him, Soren peered in from the front door. 

"Mia, now is a good time to practice your battle cry," Soren said.

"All right!" Mia said. She leapt from Gatrie's shoulders, and landed in a feat of grace. She spread her arms as she let out a throaty battle cry. Shinon, hunched down, reaching to cover his ears from the noise. He was in a perpetual state of being hungover between each of his tavern trips.

Ike walked on, towards the outside again. Mist and Boyd had moved on, while Soren reached towards something near the wall. Leaves were caught in his hair, with white blossoms which could cause a headache so severe as to leave even the greatest warriors bedridden. The bush gave off no berries, and couldn't be given as gifts, unless to try and poison the person into slow agony.

Soren reached up again to displace something from a cracked window. The motes of dust and debris were just out of reach between the large tangle of flowering bushes that had grown up between that time.

Ike reached up just behind him, fingers grazing the back of his hand as he pulled out a rusted key.

"Was this what you wanted? I doubt it will even turn anymore," Ike said.

"The door this belonged to was torn down," Soren said. He pulled at the twigs that had caught on his sleeve. "I'm going to burn that bush, and salt the earth." 

Soren combed the leaves out of his hair. Words were muttered that Ike couldn't hear. He pulled at a knot in his thick hair.

"Let me," Ike said.

He leaned in and pulled out the last of the petals. They left an almost filmy, oily sensation across his fingertips. Despite the flowers, he could smell the undertones of the oil Soren used to keep his skin from drying out, of paper and soap and spice. Soren's hair was soft, caught between his fingers as he worked the tangles. There was a warmth there in his skin, in his chest. One that hadn't been there before.

Comfort once, but not anticipation, or the bridge between knowing someone, and closing a distance he hadn't even realized was there. Something was different. Years had spread to the breadth between fingers. Soren looked back at him. Ike couldn't say what he had stumbled into.

"Thank you," Soren said soft, his voice tiny and almost apologetic. 

Laughter made him break his gaze away, as Mia wiped the cobwebs from Gatrie's hair. When he looked back, Soren had already moved on.

He caught sight of Soren under a faraway tree, a piece of dried meat held tight between his fingers. Whenever he'd gotten nervous, he'd reach for his dried meat, and sometimes just hold it. A reminder. Since Soren had come, he'd saved him part of his food every meal, and each time, Soren gave him such a look, a mix of hope and loneliness, all in one.

It wasn't until now that Ike wanted to know the depths of this question.

*

Soren had disappeared by twilight. Ike searched the rooms, through the bare library, to each of their rooms, and the study. He found Soren in the corner room, one that his father had once favored as a retreat. Now it was mostly empty, save for water-damaged books, rusted weapons, and a fireplace. A large wool blanket hung about Soren's shoulders to stave off the drafts. Mold and rot had formed between the stones; even several washings hadn't completely rid the structure of decay. Ike had begun to think that like a ghost of those he'd lost, this would stay.

Soren pulled his knees to his chest, his book left untouched beside him. It was a telling sign; Soren only took this pose when something was bothering him. Though with Soren, storm clouds rolled in easily. 

The firelight was too low to read, which could only mean Soren was overthinking things again.

"What is it this time?" Ike asked.

Soren looked above his blanket. He was always unaffected by Ike's clumsy, and blunt choices of words.

" In peace, people have little use for guardians. Wars have been started by merchants just to make profit off of weapons," Soren said. He curled the blanket around himself a little more. His face was obscured by the rolling shadows in the dim light.

"You don't have to worry. We'll make it through. We fought Daein and won; a few lean years is nothing compared to that," Ike said.

"Just because we bested impossible odds once doesn't mean we won't starve in ignominy later on," Soren said.

Soren's hand curled up towards a pouch at his side. Ike knew from experience that it contained dried food. Ever since the day he'd shown up on their doorstep, drawn and lean, like a feral animal, Soren had worried about food. He always kept stores close by, and every winter he would stay up, working his fingers to blisters.

"I hardly think some fewer weapons is a disaster. The ground should be fine here, we could grow crops to cover what we cannot buy or trade for," Ike said.

"Not this late in the year," Soren said. He released the pouch, with seeming reluctance. "I could take up some jobs. The local brewery has called out for someone to manage their ledgers after firing the last."

"Don't overexert yourself, and don't go too far this time," Ike said.

He sat beside Soren on the floor, eschewing comfort for closeness. For so many years, telling Soren everything that came to mind was like breathing. In the months Soren had studied at another mercenary group, he'd found himself staring at blank pages in an attempt to find that place again. Tied tight, a sense of home that never came without Soren there.

"It wouldn't be far. Not even an hour's journey. I wouldn't even have to room," Soren said.

"When do you start?" Ike said.

"I haven't talked to the brewers yet," Soren said.

"But once you do, you'll get the job for certain. Only a fool wouldn't hire you," Ike said. “When you do, I'll walk you there and back. There's still some brigands about."

"But who will protect you from the shop girls?" Soren said. Whenever he told a joke, his voice would always go so comically flat, and his expression matching his tone. But Ike could always see the curl at the edge of his lips, the hint of a smile.

"I think I can survive for a few hours until you return," Ike said.

Soren picked up his book, a history of the lands of Tellius. On the inner cover of the tome was an etched black map. At the outset of the lands was the words _unknown._

A thought he'd had in many a palace gala came again. This time, he spoke the words which had been on his mind for months.

"I've been thinking of a land that doesn't know my name," Ike said.

Soren closed the cover of the book, and pulled it under his blanket. "The goddess sank the world. There would be nothing but endless stormy seas. None have survived trips into the far oceans," Soren said.

"The laguz talked of it. I think there's worlds beyond our reach," Ike said.

"It's possible, but...You'd leave everything?" Soren twisted his fingers tight about the cloth. He looked down, away, anywhere to hide the grief spilling through. 

"Just for a while. Until people forget about this hero nonsense," Ike said.

"I..." Soren paused, unable to continue. "I would...search out maps for you, and would keep the fort ready for your return," Soren said.

"Don't be silly, you'd be right there beside me," Ike said.

"I will stay beside you?" Soren said, his voice low, almost lost in the crackling fire.

"That's a question you shouldn't even have to ask," Ike said, always rougher than intentioned. He slowly lifted up the blanket and rested it around his back. Side to side, knuckles brushing, he sat in silence. Soren leaned into him, a response in its own right. Ike reached out to touch him, to feel that hint of something new between them. Another country he had always known, yet never truly discovered, until now.


End file.
